As he followed Bilbo to their room, Thorin racked his mind but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why the hobbit wanted a private word. Things had been going well lately in his opinion. Poor Frodo seemed to finally have grown accustomed to his kin, or at least had ceased fainting at any rate. The hobbits had been, if not friendly then at least mostly cordial and didn't seem too miffed by the continued presence of the dwarves for the most part. All of the necessary plans for their trip, Bilbo's birthday and the babe were with completed or nearly so. Things seemed to be going their way for once. He could think of nothing that might have angered the hobbit but something clearly had.

That much at least was clear to Thorin. Bilbo's very being vibrated with anger in a way he had only seen a few times before. But what concerned him the most was that he could actually hear the hobbit's footsteps. As quietly as Bilbo generally moved the fact that his steps were audible told Thorin more than he needed to know about his lover's state of mind. Bilbo wasn't just angry; he was furious.

If he hadn't already known that the hobbit was furious, the way his hazel eyes flashed as he slammed the door behind them and rounded on Thorin would have told him.

"What is wrong with you?!" Bilbo hissed glaring up at the dwarf.

"What do you mean?" Thorin asked in return, barely resisting the urge to ask the same of Bilbo as he was the one behaving strangely. "Nothing is wrong with me. I—"

"Then what was that?" the hobbit snarled gesturing towards the dining room.

"What was what?" the dwarf asked, his brows coming together as he replayed the last few moments in his head and drawing a blank on what had enraged the hobbit so. He could think of nothing that he had done and did not appreciate having his lover's temper directed at him for no reason.

"That! In there! Just now," Bilbo snapped, not understanding why Thorin was being so intentionally dense. Surely he knew what he had done and was only refusing to acknowledge it just to be irritating. While he was rarely so petty, Bilbo knew that he had it in him to behave in such a way. While at any other time, the confused expression on Thorin's face would have made him laugh, at the moment it only fed the anger.

"The roll?" Thorin asked with an incredulous laugh. Surely Bilbo wasn't this angry about him catching a roll. There had to be something he was missing. The hobbit's next words changed his look of incredulity to one of scorn.

"Yes!" Bilbo exclaimed throwing up his hands. "Yes, the roll. I had had that under control, Thorin. I didn't need you to catch it for me!"

"Wait," Thorin said slowly, praying for the patience to solve this without it becoming a fight, and his tone clearly showing his strain. "Do you mean to tell me, that you demanded that I leave breakfast—elevensies, whatever it is you call it," he amended at Bilbo's superior expression (which did nothing to extend his already short temper), "like an errant dwarfling so that you could chastise me for catching a roll? Is that truly what you just did? Are you honestly willing to start an argument over a roll?"

Bilbo could tell from Thorin's tone that he expected him to either deny it or apologize for it, but the hobbit had no intention of doing any such thing. Thorin could just stuff his temper for all Bilbo cared at the moment. This had gone on quite long enough as it was and he knew that if he didn't speak his mind now he never would.

"It wasn't just the roll, Thorin," Bilbo sighed, running a hand through his hair. Thorin was right about one thing. He didn't want to fight about this. Not really. "You've been doing things like that all week. Ever since we decided to visit your sister, actually."

"Things like what?" Thorin growled, his frustration coming out that Bilbo was hurling yet more accusations at him, regardless of the fact that the hobbit had ceased yelling. As much as he loved Bilbo, sometime the hobbit made him want to pull his own hair out.

"You've been doing things for me that I'm perfectly capable of doing!" Bilbo explained, growing irritated again that Thorin needed it spelled out for him. "Yesterday you took the baking tray from me even though I told you I had it and nearly dropped it in the process."

"Which wouldn't have happened if you wouldn't have tried to refuse to give it to me," Thorin added with a dismissive gesture.

"And the day before?" Bilbo asked growing angry again at Thorin's easy dismissal of his complaints.

"Do you mean in the market?" Thorin scoffed. "All I did was—"

"Butt in unnecessarily!" Bilbo finished, not caring what Thorin believed that he had done.

"It was hardly unnecessary, Bilbo," Thorin argued. "That hobbit was saying such dreadful things about you. What was I supposed to do, ignore him?"

"Yes!" Bilbo said throwing up his hands and beginning to pace. "We ignore them. You can't stop them from gossiping. Eru knows I tried when I first came home but that just makes it worse. If you ignore them . . ."

"You honestly expect me to ignore such slights against you?" Thorin snapped, wondering just what was wrong with hobbits that they would allow others to speak so harshly about their lovers, especially when what was being said was untrue.

"That's hardly the worst thing that's been said about me in the last sixty years," Bilbo replied with a snide laugh. "In fact it was rather mild comparatively. What does it truly matter if he thinks that I am willing to flaunt customs to marry a male dwarf royal because I am out of money?"

"I will not have him sullying your good name by suggesting that you would sell yourself for money?" Thorin replied stubbornly.

"They have said much worse," Bilbo said growing frustrated as Thorin refused to understand. "And I no longer have a good name to sully. I haven't since I ran off with a group of dwarves and came back a year later with gold. Don't you see? I don't care what they say."

"I do," Thorin snapped, enraged that Bilbo cared so little for what his own people thought about him. Or more accurately, that he had been so poorly treated by his kin that he would resign himself to enduring whatever barbs they threw at him. It was wrong.

"Why?" Bilbo demanded. "Because you're worried they're telling the truth? Do you think I chose you as my mate because I was impoverished and needed security?"

Rather than dignify that question with a true answer, Thorin turned away growling a curse in Khuzdul. Of course he knew that Bilbo hadn't married him for security. When they'd married he still had nothing to his name. If anything it almost could have been argued that he—the King of Durin's folk—married into money.

"I know what that one means, Thorin," Bilbo snapped. "and I would greatly appreciate it if you wouldn't say such things about my mother."

"I didn't mean your mother," Thorin replied feeling a bit sheepish at having been called out on his swearing.

"I can't see another meaning behind it," Bilbo said a small smile creeping onto his face as Thorin seemed to concede the battle. In the past, Thorin had only resorted to his native tongue in an argument when it was over. All the same, Bilbo wanted clarification.

"Tell me," he asked lightly, "did that slip into Khuzdul, vulgar as it was, mean that you will attempt to allow me to handle the things I am capable of?"

"No," the dwarf replied simply. "I will continue to care for you as any good mate would. As a reputable dwarf I can do no less." Bilbo wasn't sure exactly why his next words came out in Khuzdul. Perhaps it was because he knew more vile curses in that language than he did in any other—though the look on Thorin's face had he been sworn at in Sindarin might have been worth sacrificing a bit of vulgarity—or perhaps it was because the guttural nature of the language more aptly fit his mood. Whatever the reason, the next thing Bilbo knew, he was chest-to-chest with his lover swearing vehemently.

"Bilbo!" Thorin gasped, scandalized by the things that were coming out of the hobbit's mouth and making a mental note to have a chat with his kin about their language. "Now that's uncalled for!" he snapped when Bilbo suggested that his father may have actually been an orc.

"No it's not!" Bilbo argued, switching back to Westron to continue the argument on more equal ground. "Only someone fathered by an orc could be so stubborn and inconsiderate." Thorin scoffed but Bilbo continued on undeterred, "When I say I have something under control, I do. Let me do it."

"Bilbo," Thorin sighed squeezing the bridge of his nose. "I don't understand why you are so upset about this."

"I've said it more times than I can count!" Bilbo said only to be ignored as Thorin was still talking.

"It is the behavior that is expected of any larger mate in my culture," he was saying. "I am expected to assist you with things that might be beyond you."

"None of those things were beyond me!" Bilbo snapped. "Why aren't you listening? I. Was. Fine. Just how frail do you think I am?!" but Thorin still wasn't listening, trying instead to make the hobbit understand what he was asking Thorin to go against.

"If I was to allow you to become injured attempting something because I refused to offer you assistance when you needed it, what kind of mate would I be?" Thorin asked. He opened his mouth to speak again but Bilbo had had enough.

"WHY DON'T YOU EVER LISTEN TO ANYTHING I SAY YOU STUBBORN DWARF!?" Bilbo yelled, figuring that was the only way to be heard over Thorin's continued, incessant talking.

"I LISTEN WHEN WHAT YOU ARE SAYING MAKES ANY SENSE, YOU . . . YOU IMPERTINENT HOBBIT!" Thorin roared. For a moment they stood there glaring at one another before Bilbo closed his eyes with a laugh. The situation was ridiculous. They were standing in their bedroom, yelling, because Thorin had caught a roll.

Thorin eyed his lover warily. In the past, Bilbo laughing in the middle of an argument never boded well. It was with more than a little apprehension that he waited for the hobbit to speak. Though he was relieved to see that some of the anger had evaporated from Bilbo's eyes when they opened again.

"Impertinent hobbit?" Bilbo scoffed, his tone light. "That's the best you can come up with?"

"Better than 'stubborn dwarf'," Thorin replied with a snort. "Especially when you are being unfair."

"Oh?" Bilbo asked, his eyebrow coming up.

"Yes," Thorin replied feeling a bit hurt that Bilbo would think he didn't care enough to listen. "I do listen to you. I heard what you said. But this time, you're the one not listening. Can't you see that all I want to do is care for you as I always should have. More than once you've referenced the sixty years you spent alone. Sixty years that never should have happened."

"But they did," Bilbo said placing a hand on Thorin's arm. "They did happen and we can't pretend they didn't. You died. I don't blame you for that but it is still something you have to remember. Just as you have to remember that in two days I will be 111 years old and have spent nearly all of those years without you. I've learned to get along on my own."

"Besides," Bilbo added attempting to lighten the suddenly oppressive mood, "you put me to much more challenging things than gossiping hobbits and flying dinner rolls. I seem to recall something about orcs, jail breaks and stealing from a dragon?" It had the effect he wanted and a small smile crossed Thorin's face, even if it didn't reach his eyes.

"That I did," Thorin replied placing his palm on Bilbo's cheek and stroking it with his thumb. "I did send you into a dragon's den. Alone. Is that not reason enough for me to want to dote on you now? I risked your life," he paused and released a derisive snort. "I even tried to take it myself. I think carrying a tray or correcting a fool is small compensation for such neglect, don't you? But if it truly bothers you so, I will attempt to allow you to do things for yourself unless you request aid. Would that please you?"

"That's all I want," Bilbo replied. "If I need help, I will ask for it."

Thorin nodded before a small smirk crossed his face. He may be about to concede the argument but he would not allow the hobbit to have the last word.

"Do not hesitate to do so," he returned. "You are getting rather old, you know? You look so much like you did the last time I saw you that I often forget just how much time has actually passed. In fact, to me it only feels like yesterday that you were sitting beside me around a camp fire telling me that if you ever made it home you would never move from your armchair again. Wouldn't you much rather do just that; sit in front of your fireplace with your pipe and keep your old bones warm rather than traipse across the country with me again?"

"And let you have all the fun?" Bilbo asked in return even if part of his mind wanted to do just that. "I think I would rather come with you. After all, old bones that sit idle lose their ability to move, or so I've been told."

"I truly cannot convince you otherwise?" Thorin said, an almost desperate edge to his words. "You don't want to stay and prepare for the babe. Or see to Frodo or your garden?"

"The babe is prepared for," Bilbo replied, knowing that this was where they'd been headed all along. Thorin had been dropping hints all week that he thought Bilbo should stay. It only made sense that it would come out now. "Frodo can see to himself. He's a smart lad and in two days will be an adult. And I have a gardener. Even if mobility is good for old bones, gardening has become rather tedious to me. I'd much rather go. After all, I've never seen a dwarven settlement that hadn't had a dragon living in it for over a hundred years."

"You still won't," Thorin muttered grimly as he thought of just how angry his sister was going to be. The wrath of Smaug would pale in comparison.

"Thorin," Bilbo said with a laugh. "There's not a dragon in the Blue Mountains. This quest is far less perilous than the last." Thorin said nothing even though he wanted to ask Bilbo if seeing a dwarven settlement was worth his life.

"Come," Bilbo said offering the dwarf his hand. "Let's finish the meal I so rudely drug you away from. I'm willing to bet we have the house to ourselves." Thorin shook his head with a small laugh. Bilbo was probably right. His kin had most likely taken Frodo and fled. He wanted to tell them that it had all been for naught, this hadn't been that kind of fight. Or at least the resolution was not conducive to that type of making up, not with the melancholic atmosphere that surrounded them. No. They need not have fled nothing carnal was going to happen. Not at the moment.

ooOO88OOoo

"Do you think it's safe lads?" Bofur asked looking at the round green door as if there were a horde of orcs waiting on the other side.

"It's been the better part of the day," Balin replied uncertainly. "and Bilbo is getting up in years. Surely it's safe to return by now."

"So," Frodo asked, "does that mean you'll be the one to go in?"

"Me?!" Balin demanded. "Why me?"

"Well, you are the oldest," Dwalin replied. "It should be more difficult for them to traumatize you."

"And easier for my heart to give out," Balin snorted. "We should send the youngest. He'll be better able to take the shock." Bofur snorted at that knowing that Balin had put his money on Thorin and Bilbo and that Frodo seeing them in that position would guarantee him a win as the poor lad would never be able to look at them with a straight face again.

"Are you volunteering then?" Balin demanded glaring at the snorting dwarf.

"No," Bofur said. "What about Dwalin? He's already walked in on them once—"

"Which was more than enough, thank you," Dwalin cut in. This just led to another round of bickering that caused Frodo to sigh and reach for the doorknob while the dwarves debated the merits of camping in the garden. As if he would do such a thing when there was a warm bed just inside! Besides, even if he had been more than willing to go with them and miss the fight itself, he still believed that they were exaggerating about the more amorous aspects of such a fight. Shaking his head at the continued bickering of the dwarves, he walked into Bag End leaving the door open behind him.

"Um, lads," Bofur said suddenly, looking around. "Where's Frodo?"

"What is it with you and losing hobbits?" Dwalin asked shaking his head.

"I don't lose hobbits, I just notice they're missing," Bofur replied.

"He can't have gone far," Balin said looking around as if he expected Frodo to pop out of the flowerbed. He felt the blood drain from his face as he caught sight of the open door. "Lads, you don't think . . . "

"No," Dwalin replied. "Not after what we told him. He'll not have gone in there."

"Just like Bilbo would never have gone into Smaug's den after hearing tales of dragon fire and ruin?" Bofur asked. The dwarves exchanged glances before realizing there was nothing they could do for it; they had to go in. They may not have been able to accompany Bilbo into the mountain all those years ago, but they could make sure that Frodo didn't face this alone.

As one they crept into the house, apprehensive about the sight that might greet them but willing to go all the same. There was nothing offensive in the entry or main hall so they continued on, led by the sound of someone moving in the kitchen.

"Frodo?" Bofur called in a loud whisper, hoping that if it was Bilbo and Thorin they would be kind enough to warn him before he made it around the corner. He was relieved when Frodo's curly head poked around the corner, his finger held to his lips.

"Shh," the hobbit chided. "Can't you move more quietly?"

"Are we sneaking?" Dwalin asked his voice much too loud for any kind of stealth.

"Yes, now hush," Frodo hissed, shooting a worried glance behind him.

"And why are we sneaking if we're guests?" Balin questioned more quietly than his brother.

"Come with me," Frodo said. "Quietly." Confused but curious enough to be willing to go along with it, they followed. The sight in the sitting room made them all smile. Thorin and Bilbo were seated on the sofa next to the fireplace, both of them fully clothed and clearly asleep. Bilbo snoring on Thorin's shoulder while the dwarf's head was rested on top of the hobbits in a way that he would surely regret when he woke the next morning.

"Now do you see?" Frodo asked quietly once they were in the kitchen once more. "I hate to wake them."

"I wouldn't wake them for the world," Balin replied. It had been too long since he had seen either of them look quite so peaceful and he would not be the one to wake them and force them back into reality and the trials that were to come.

ooOO88OOoo

Hi y'all, remember me? Once more I must apologize for the delay. School started back up and there's just a ton of work that needs to be done. Good news is, school's over in five more weeks. Bad news is, I'm expecting a baby four weeks after that. I should still have time to write (newborns do sleep a lot) but if things slow down (not more than they already have but you know what I mean) that's what's going on. That said, I will do my best to keep updates coming in a regular fashion. I hope you're still enjoying this fic and would love to hear what you thought.

Stickdonkeys